


Office Politics

by Anzhela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-06-17 16:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15465387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anzhela/pseuds/Anzhela
Summary: Hermione is finding the world of office politics a bit trickier to navigate than she imagined. If only there was someone who could give her a crash course in the world of politics?





	1. The Beginnings

Chapter 1: The Beginnings

A crack filled the air and Hermione Granger walked purposefully through the atrium of the Ministry. She was wearing a pale blouse, a black pencil skirt and black stilettos, which she had patched together with magic on more than one occasion. In one hand she carried a cup of coffee, and the other her wand. Alongside her, a demure and slightly shabby handbag floated obediently at her hip, only occasionally bumping into her when she changed direction too quickly. It was 8am on a Friday morning and there were only a handful of other employees walking about.

Two janitors jumped out of the way as Hermione marched past. She gave them a curt “Good Morning” as she did so, but didn’t wait around for any idle chit-chat, heading straight for the lifts instead. She took the first one up to floor five and resumed her march along a long corridor.

She pushed open the door to where her team worked and made her way through the slightly cramped room over to her desk. With a sigh, she put down her coffee and her wand before picking up the collapsed stack of parchment that had spread across from her neighbour Mullins desk, tidying them, and placing them where they should have been to begin with.

Hermione sat down in her chair, ignoring its painful squeaking, kicked off her shoes unceremoniously and got down to work. By the time the rest of her team had arrived, Hermione was on her third coffee and fourth task.

Around 11 that morning a boy who Hermione knew was at least two years her junior, both in age and experience, hurried up to her, slapping a case file down on her desk. “I hope you don’t mind Hermione, but I need a case review done by two this afternoon, and it requires the best!” With a smarmy smile and without waiting for a response the boy disappeared again. Hermione’s lips pursed, and she felt a throbbing beginning in her left temple. Whilst she felt tempted not to do the work, she also knew that she didn’t have too much of a choice. She dropped what she had been working on and got down to the task, conscious of the passing time.

At precisely five minutes to 2 that afternoon having worked straight through lunch, Hermione dropped the case review back to its original owner, and without any thanks proffered from the boy, left again to finish her own work.

At five minutes to six that evening, just when Hermione was intending to head home for the weekend, two memos landed on her desk. With barely contained frustration, she picked up the first one. It contained a long task from her boss that needed to be delivered Monday lunch time and would definitely require weekend working. She picked up the second memo scowling and opened it.

…

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We regret to inform you of the recent passing of Professor Minerva McGonagall which occurred in the early hours of this morning._

_We would like to invite you to attend the Professors funeral which will take place on the following Wednesday at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_We hope you will be able to join us in remembering Professor McGonagall._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Hogwarts’ Staff_

_…_

Hermione felt her breath come in a rush and a hand went to her chest in shock. She could feel her increased heartrate, but still couldn’t quite believe what it was that she was reading. She read the memo again, and then one more time for good measure before she threw her belongings in her handbag, stuffed the memo in after them and hurried out of her office.

She headed straight for the lift and went directly up to the Aurors’ offices. She hurried down the corridor, her shoes clacking angrily, until she turned the corner. She moved through the messy desks until she spotted Ron’s mop of bright red hair.

She headed around the last bank of cubicles and found Harry and Ron, both clutching similar pieces of parchments to the one that she had received. Hermione found that she didn’t need to say anything as she slumped down at a vacant desk chair next to the boys.

“Do you think everyone got these?” Ron asked in a strained voice.

“No.” Hermione replied softly. “Probably just the Order. Maybe Gryffindors.”

Silence descended again as they all digested the news. This was the first death they had been affronted with since the war. Hermione could feel all the complex emotions that she had struggled with for so long threatening to overwhelm her again.

Eventually Harry lifted his head and said the only word required. “Pub?”

…

Early on in their careers at the ministry, the trio had discovered a fairly quiet wizard pub through a colleague of Harry and Ron’s. It was slightly seedy in nature, similar to the Hog’s Head, but it did good chips and saved them from being recognised and spoken to by every passer-by in the Leaky Cauldron. They often visited after work on Fridays and had become known to the bar staff.

This particular Friday they sought the sanctuary and general anonymity of the pub. Ron hailed in three Firewhiskys and they sat in a glum huddle in a gloomy corner seat. Eventually Harry raised his glass. “McGonagall.” He said, not yet ready to voice any of his feelings in the form of a speech.

“McGonagall.” Ron and Hermione chorused quietly. They drank their drinks down in one and Hermione went up to fetch some more.

They were halfway through a pint of butterbeer when the door to the pub flew open and Ginny appeared in a rush, still decked in full quidditch uniform. She hurried over to the group and sat down.

“I take it you’ve heard?” She asked, breathless. The trio nodded glumly, and Ginny let out a small sigh. “I was half hoping it was some sort of vile prank when I got the owl. I flooed George before I came, he said he’ll join when he closes up shop in an hour.”

“I should probably try and contact Percy.” Ron said. Percy didn’t commonly join them in the pub, it wasn’t quite his scene, but he could be persuaded to come on occasion.

“I tried his office, but he wasn’t there.” Ginny said. “He’s probably gone to Mum and Dads.”

Percy had taken a renewed stance on family after the war, particularly in the light of Fred’s death, and spent most of his weekends in the Weasley family home helping out and he often had lunch with Molly Weasley in the week – taking her to as many well to-do locations as he could.

The group continued to drink in a slightly strangled silence until George joined them. With one look at the downtrodden group, George ordered another round and sat down.

“Awful news.” He commented as way of a greeting.

Hermione pulled out the slightly crumpled memo from her bag and smoothed it down on the table in front of her. She read it through again quickly and sighed.

“What do you think happened?” Hermione asked.

“Old age?” Ron suggested. “She wasn’t young when we started at Hogwarts.”

“She took more than a few hits during Voldemort’s reign.” Harry added. “Remember when she defended Hagrid from Umbridge?”

“I almost thought she had had it then.” George commented.

Ginny nodded in agreement. “She went through a lot in those years. A lot of stress too.”

“Still, I never thought I’d see the day.” Ron added with a smile.

“McGonagall was a fighter.” Harry said, deep pride and respect filled his voice, and his jaw had taken on a set look of defiance.

The conversation continued, discussing McGonagall and regaling each other with anecdotes from their strict Head of House and Transfiguration teacher. Eventually talk turned to the funeral.

“It’ll be odd to go back to Hogwarts.” Hermione said. “I haven’t been back since the war.” Ron and George nodded in agreement.

“I finished my final year there.” Ginny said. “With McGonagall as Headmistress.”

“I visited Dumbledore’s grave once.” Harry said shortly. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other in slight surprise, they hadn’t known Harry had been back and Hermione wondered why he had never mentioned it.

“I wonder who will become Head now.” George said. “I wouldn’t want to follow in Dumbledore and McGonagall’s footsteps. That’s a hard job, that is.”

…

The hours went by and the drinks went quicker. At half midnight, George and Hermione were staggering down the road, arm in arm, behind the distant figures of Ron, Harry and Ginny. Harry and Ginny had their arms around each other, and Hermione sniggered to George.

“Ron’s looking like a bit of a third-wheel.” She said, words slurring together slightly.

George got the gist of what she said and laughed loud and delighted. “As ever.”

“Shhhhh.” Hermione laughed. “Don’t tell him.”

They continued to wind their slow way down the road. Hermione watched Ron with mirth in her eyes. Hermione and Ron had barely gotten together after Hogwarts before they broke up again. Their fleeting relationship had been sweet, and their parting had been mutual. Both had found the aftermath of the war more difficult than they had anticipated and neither liked the strain it put on their relationship. They had agreed that friends were more important at that time.

That had been five years ago, and neither had felt any romantic connection since. Lately, however, Hermione had begun to notice George’s sidelong glances at her and she suspected that he had only held himself back from asking her out in respect for his brother.

Hermione didn’t quite know how she felt about George. They had gotten much closer following Fred’s death, as the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione had all banded together to mourn his passing. Hermione and George had regular dinners together, Hermione being a willing and sympathetic ear for George’s grief. She had always kept it at a strict friendship level, however, more concerned with George’s emotional wellbeing than anything else. Suspecting that he liked her, Hermione felt increasingly conflicted, not wanting to complicate or lose the strong emotional friendship that they had built up.

They continued staggering down the street, and at one point, Ginny burst into a rendition of the Hogwarts’ school song, shouting the lyrics loudly until they all joined in.

Eventually, and with much detouring, they made it down to the block of flats that they all lived in. George had previously been living above the shop with Fred but, finding himself alone, had moved in with Ron, much to their mother’s pleasure. Two floors above them, Harry, Ginny and Hermione shared a two-bedroom flat. Most of the time Hermione didn’t mind living with the couple, as both Harry and Ginny kept such odd working hours they weren’t often home at the same time. Some evenings though, Hermione were go down to visit Ron and George to give them some alone-time. She suspected that all of them could afford to live in their own places but none of them were quite ready to live alone just yet.

They climbed the stairs slowly, stopping at the third floor to say goodbye to Ron and George. George gave Hermione a fierce hug and kissed her on the cheek. She felt a blush spread across her face and turned away from the others quickly. The remaining three of them continued up to the fifth floor, Harry and Ginny firmly glued to each other’s sides.

“Night Hermione.” Ginny said as she walked backwards into her bedroom, eyes locked on Harry’s, pulling him along by the hand.

“Night guys.” Hermione said, not sure if either of them heard, or cared what she said. With a sigh, she headed into her own dark room and crawled into bed exhausted. She didn’t forget to cast a quick silencing charm aimed at the adjoining wall before she went to sleep, though.

 


	2. The Funeral

Chapter 2: The Funeral

Dawn crept up over the castle grounds, bright and clear. It was late October and dew lay thickly over the grass. Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood in a huddle shivering as they watched the autumn sunrise. They had just apparated outside of the Hogwarts gates. It was the day of Minerva McGonagall’s funeral.

The trio had arrived at the castle early, none of them being able to sleep. Harry found that nightmares from the war were liable to keep him awake long into the night, and tonight had been no different. He had woken in a shaking sweat at three in the morning. Heading into the kitchen to get water, he found Hermione half slumped in a chair, her face showing obvious evidence of crying. They had decided that a walk around the Hogwarts grounds before the ceremony was due to take place would be the medicine that they both needed. Not feeling right to leave Ron behind, they had gone down to wake him from a deep sleep and drag him up to Hogwarts in time to see the sun rise.

The three of them walked slowly and in silence, their black funeral robes billowing slightly in the sharp breeze. Hermione kept up a heating charm on their feet to prevent their shoes from getting soaked in the dew on the long grass. They took a slow meandering route across the grounds, speaking little, but comforted by the others presence. Eventually they reached the place of Dumbledore’s grave and they stood in silent mourning together. Hermione reached her hands out and grasped a hand each of Harry and Ron; they squeezed gently back. Hermione felt the strength and comfort that came from know that they would always be an inseparable grouping. They had been through too much together, from the troll in first year, through to their tricky attempts to navigate adulthood in a still politically unstable environment, and she knew that there was nothing that could break them apart.

The sun continued to climb in the sky brining a crisp and clear autumn day, and Ron soon spotted some of the other Weasley’s across the grounds as the guests began to arrive and make their way over to the funeral location. The trio headed over to meet the sombre group and together they headed over for the ceremony.

Whilst not as emotionally charged as Dumbledore’s funeral had been in the middle of the war, somehow this felt even worse. With nothing to focus on, or to channel her grief into, Hermione found that her emotions were fraught, and the wave of sadness threatened to overcome her.

It only took one look at Harry distraught face for Hermione to pull herself together and perform the duties that only best friends could. She put her own feelings of grief aside, to be dealt with later, and concentrated on comforting her friend.

The truly difficult part of the day came after the funeral was finished. A wake was being held in the Great Hall, and for all intents and purposes, that meant mingling. Hermione had discovered the hard way that networking and mingling at work were not her strong suits. With her head-strong opinions and slightly pretentious attitude, Hermione had a habit of rubbing people the wrong way. She was still trying to figure out the right way to go about it but was struggling to find the skills required and was yet to discover the right book to read about them.

With no real option but to mingle, Hermione threw herself into it was wild abandon and determination. She left Harry and Ron with the rest of the Weasley’s – Harry didn’t particularly need to network and Ron simply had no interest - and she began to make her way through the crowd, greeting old friends from school, the odd ministry employee that she recognised, and having some slightly more intellectual conversations with old Professors.

It was whilst in conversation with Professor Vector, and a couple of Ravenclaw students that Hermione recognised to have been in Ginny’s year at school, that Draco Malfoy made his appearance, stepping into the conversation and fluidly greeting the Professor. Both Draco and Hermione had been in the same N.E.W.T level class. Hermione had caught a glance of Draco’s tell-tale blonde head at the funeral but had neglected to mention it to either Harry or Ron, concerned that the sight of the blonde could cause tempers to flare. After all, you could never be too careful when a Malfoy was around.

“Now you two were some of the best students I saw through this school.” Professor Vector said, pointing her conversation at Hermione and Draco. “Quite exceptional, you both provided a strong competition for the other.”

Hermione and Draco glanced at each other. Hermione smiled slightly. Whilst she thought their school relationship could be summed up a number of ways, ‘competition’ was probably the most apt for the circumstances.

“Such a shame how it all ended.” Professor Vector finished with a grimace.

Before Hermione had a chance to comment, Professor Vector was hailed in a different direction by some other guests and was pulled away from the conversation.

“Hermione Granger. International Magical Office of Law.” Draco said. His intonation almost suggested a question.

“Yes, that’s right.” Hermione answered crisply. “I didn’t know that was popular knowledge.”

“It’s not.” Draco replied. “I make it my job to know these things.”

“And what would be your job?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, you know.” Draco waved a hand vaguely in the air. “Charitable doings, here and there. Restoring my family name.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Buying power?”

“Don’t be so crass.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’m just being accurate.”

“It’s far more nuanced than what you could possible imagine.” A slight haughtiness crept into his tone. “I’m a businessman.”

Hermione didn’t look impressed, a rather sour look appearing on her face. “I think we’ve had enough of those if that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

Draco scoffed. “Don’t give me that holier-than-thou crap. You know, I’m starting to understand why you’re still a junior associate.”

Hermione froze. “Excuse me?” She was starting to think that maybe Harry and Ron weren’t the highest risk of causing a scene.

“Your career is going nowhere.” Draco said bluntly. “I couldn’t understand why for a long time. I know you aren’t the most politically savvy person, and I didn’t think you were that fussed about the Ministry, but I still couldn’t understand how you hadn’t had a promotion in two years. Well now I know.” Draco made to turn and leave, but Hermione grabbed his arm tightly and pulled him back.

“Explain.” She spat.

“You’ve got no idea how politics work. For a smart ass, you really should have seen this.”

“I’m not in politics.” Hermione scowled.

“Office politics.” Draco sighed. “Now would you let me go? I would hate to break your arm.”

Hermione loosened her grip but stayed close to Draco to prevent him from leaving. “Hold on, though.” Hermione said, trying to collect her thoughts. “I’m going to skip over the question of how you seem to know every detail of my career. How do you know that’s why I haven’t been promoted?”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “Because it’s obvious. Everyone knows that you’re smart, hard-working, and I’ve no doubt you’re the best at your job in that office. But that isn’t how you get promoted. This isn’t school. Getting the best marks on your essay doesn’t mean shit anymore.”

Hermione took his words in with crushing realisation. She gazed off into the distance, slightly shocked. Whilst she would hate to admit that Draco was right, she was smart enough to see that his words fit her situation. She was certainly the best employee in her office, churning out cases faster than any of the other junior associates, and always to a much higher standard. And yet, she still seemed to be missing something, watching her colleagues get promoted over her, even when she was still clearing up their messy work.

“Can I leave now or are you going to assault me again if I do?” Draco intoned, flatly.

“Wait, but, isn’t that what you do?” Hermione asked.

“What is?” Draco asked, confused and exasperated.

“Office politics!” Hermione exclaimed a little too loudly. A nearby house-elf laden with a tray of drinks squeaked slightly at the noise and quickly headed off to serve other guests, shooting Hermione an odd look.

“I guess, sort of at least.” Draco answered. “Why does that matter?”

“Can you teach me?” Hermione asked, a determined look came into her eye and she stared at Draco.

“I don’t think these things can be taught.” Draco answered, trying to edge away.

“Nonsense.” Hermione scoffed. “Everything can be taught. I’ll pay you a small fee for your time. Or I’ll buy you lunch, whichever suits you.”

“I don’t think you can afford me.” Draco sniffed.

“Of course not, I’m presuming if you know my title you know how much I earn.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m also sure, however, that there must be something that I can do for you in return.”

Draco looked at her, considering the offer. He was aware that being seen publicly with Hermione Granger would do a lot more for his reputation than any amount of money could hope to achieve. And considering that the Malfoy reserves were looking a little low currently, he didn’t think this was an opportunity he could pass up.

“I suppose there might be. Okay, fine. I’ll try and teach you, but I make no guarantees.”

A bright smile burst across Hermione’s face. “Thank you.”

“I’ll owl a time and place to meet.” Draco looked at her one more time, lips pursed, and then turned back into the crowd without another word.

Hermione smiled proudly to herself. She wasn’t quite sure if she was making the right decision or not, and she certainly didn’t know how she was going to break this bizarre new development to anyone, but her career was in dire straits and required some sort of shake up. She could only hope that Draco Malfoy would have the answers she needed.


	3. The First Meeting

Chapter 3: The First Meeting

The owl arrived the following Monday. Hermione took the letter from the sleek brown owl and sat down to read it whilst she finished her porridge.

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_Following on from our conversation of last Wednesday, I would like to invite you to meet me for lunch this Saturday midday in Diagon Alley._

_I look forward to your return owl for confirmation._

_Kind regards,_

_Mr. Malfoy_

Hermione snorted lightly at the formality of the letter. She wasn’t quite sure what she had expected from a Malfoy, but she was mostly just glad that he hadn’t completely ignored her requests for help.

She spent the rest of the week gritting her teeth at work, impatiently waiting for her lunch meeting on Saturday. In her off hours she scoured both Wizarding and Muggle bookshops trying to find the kind of material that would prepare her for her lunch with Malfoy. Her efforts remained fruitless and all she picked up were the kind of self-help books that she would shelve next to her Divination textbooks.

Hermione did still maintain some small reservation that this wasn’t the best idea that she had ever had, and she had neglected to tell the others what she was doing. Hermione felt the worst at the fact that George had invited her for lunch that same Saturday and she had to turn his offer down with a somewhat half formed excuse of being ‘busy’. George had accepted the excuse but eyed her with mild confusion that her normally transparent life was suddenly closed off to him.

Eventually Saturday arrived and Hermione disapparated from her flat dressed in her best jeans, one of her nicer sweaters and her autumn coat. She had even borrowed-without-asking a pair of Ginny’s boots for the occasion, having realised at the last moment that most of hers were too shabby for lunch with a Malfoy. Whilst she had no intention to dress up for Draco Malfoy, she was also aware that he was providing this service for no currently understood cost, and she wasn’t about to make him walk back out the door if she could help it.

Diagon Alley was fairly busy for a Saturday morning given the miserable grey clouds that hung overhead and Hermione passed through with a small smile on her face, enjoying the atmosphere.

“Good morning.” Draco Malfoy stepped out of the shadows and spoke quietly in Hermione’s ear. She managed not to jump too much at his sudden appearance, but still scowled slightly at him.

“Yes, good morning.”

“Please, come with me.”

Draco walked off, parting the crowd with his confident and striking appearance and headed off down the street. Hermione matched his pace easily, walking alongside him, but felt increasingly wary of the eyes that were following the unlikely pair. Draco led her down a side street to a small but well-known café, that sold arguably the best carrot cake Hermione had tasted. The waitress led them to a table in the window and handed them menus with a smile and a second glance at Draco, as though trying to confirm his identity.

Hermione perused the menu in the ensuing silence. Every now and then she threw a quick glance at Draco, but didn’t gain any insight as he calmly considered his options for lunch. When the waitress returned, Hermione ordered a salad and a slice of the carrot cake, Draco got a chicken sandwich and a coffee.

With the menu’s taken away, Hermione found it difficult not to stare at the man sat opposite her. Somehow, she still expected to see the scrawny pale boy that she had gone to school with looking back at her across the table, not the capable confident man that sat there instead.

“Shall we get down to business?” Draco asked dryly, sounding bored. “I don’t really know what you’re expecting here Granger.”

“Hermione, please.”

“Hermione.” Draco sighed. “Why don’t you start by telling me about your team structure at work?”

“You don’t already know?” Hermione quirked an eye.

Draco pursed his lips slightly. “I only pay attention to those who are relevant.”

Hermione filed that information for consideration at a later date. In response she said, “It’s pretty much what you’d expect of a Ministry department really.”

“Where do you stand in the team?” Draco prompted again.

Hermione dove into an explanation of how her team was set up, and her office environment. She descended into a rant about the kid that had started delegating to her, startling the waitress as she set down their lunch. “So, you see, these rich kids keep coming in, and somehow think I should be doing their work.”

Draco nodded, but didn’t comment on anything she had said, looking just as bored as when they had sat down. “And tell me what your career track has been up until now.”

“Well I started in the department five years ago. Maybe six now. The first two years were as a trainee, very standard. It was just me and another girl, but she transferred out to another department, typically we get one or two new trainees a year it seems. Then I started as an associate, that was another year and half, maybe? Then they promoted me to consultant. But that was two years ago now.”

Draco nodded again. “Tell me about an average work day.”

Hermione gave him the typical outline of her day, arriving at the office before anyone else did, barely catching up on work before someone undoubtedly dumped an urgent case on her desk, right through to when she would leave on average at seven in the evening as the last one to leave the office.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I see your problem.”

“You do?”

“You’re a pushover.” Draco sighed. “This is what you get for spending all those years doing Potter and Weasley’s work for them.”

“I can’t not do the work, it’s my job.” Hermione ignored the childish insult, aware that she didn’t have much of an argument against it.

“You’re telling me that the kid with the super urgent case is your boss?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

Hermione couldn’t respond.

“The only person that is going to get in shit for not meeting that deadline is the kid who has the case.”

“But –“ Hermione tried to argue but Draco cut her off by holding up a hand.

“Hermione. Doing the work is not the most important thing in office politics. Who is getting credit for the work says a lot more. This is your challenge for now: stop doing other people’s work when you’ve got your own to do and for god’s sake stop going in early. It achieves nothing because nobody sees it.”

Hermione blinked. Everything Draco was suggesting was against her every instinct. She was a firm believer that working hard had it’s own rewards and had been functioning under that assumption for her whole like.

“Trust me.” Draco said. “It’ll make a world of difference.”

Hermione sighed. “Okay, I’ll try it.”

“And don’t work through lunch.” Draco added. “Leave the office, that way no-one can guilt you into doing work. Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’re acting like a Hufflepuff.”

Hermione glared at him. “Don’t be rude.”

“Don’t be a child about it then.”

“Fine.” Hermione snapped. “I’ll do what you say.”

“Good. Meet me at the same time next week and we’ll see if you do.” Draco smiled coldly. “Thank you for your time, Ms Granger.”

“It’s Hermione.” Hermione added as Draco got up, put his coat on and walked calmly out of the café. Outside on the street he disapparated with a loud crack.

…

Hermione arrived back in her flat, her head still buzzing with the conversation she had had with Draco. Whilst nothing that he had said had been particularly revolutionary, it was a very different way of considering the working environment and Hermione was struggling to assimilate his suggestions into her view of the world.

She had barely made it into her bedroom before a loud crack split the air of the flat and an animated yell of “HERMIONE!” got her attention. Her door banged against its frame, and Ginny Weasley entered the room in a state of excitement.

“Draco Malfoy?!” Were the only words that came out of Ginny’s mouth before she threw herself on Hermione’s bed, precisely where Hermione had been about to sit.

Hermione smiled at the devious grin that was plastered across Ginny’s face and sat down in the easy chair instead.

“I’m sorry?” Hermione asked, trying to pretend that she didn’t know what Ginny was talking about.

“Oh, don’t even.” Ginny replied. “That new intern that works with Lavender at Witch Weekly saw you two walking down Diagon Alley and he ran straight to tell Lav, interrupting us and Ron where we were having coffee on her break , just to practically yell this news at her. Lav went straight back to work to write an article for the next Witch Weekly issue. Ron was absolutely gobsmacked.” Ginny rattled off her story without taking a breath. She paused to breathe and then said. “Well? Are you dating Draco Malfoy?”

“No!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’m certainly not.”

“Then why were you going to lunch with him? In my boots, might I add.” Ginny pointed at Hermione’s boot clad feet with an air of pretend accusation that would have been a lot more convincing if she wasn’t grinning ear to ear.

Hermione laughed lightly as she took the boots off to return them. “I only borrowed them, mine weren’t nice enough.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Ginny prompted.

Seeing that there was no way that she would be able to distract Ginny from the scent of gossip without digging herself into a deeper hole, Hermione told her the truth.

“He’s giving me career advice.” Hermione said with a sigh. Ginny looked visibly disappointed.

“Oh, is that all? And here I was, thinking I’d be able to watch that old bitch Narcissa Malfoy’s face as she watched her son marry a Muggleborn.”

Hermione snorted. “Unlikely.”

“Career advice though?” Ginny said. “You know, that seems like a good idea.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow in question.

“Well, you know.” Ginny said, waving her hand in the air as she tried to find what to say without being obviously rude. “You’ve had a little trouble progressing.”

Hermione nodded. “We spoke about it at the wake last week. He offered help, though I’m not sure what he’s doing it for. It can’t exactly be the free lunch, money isn’t an issue for him.”

Ginny pondered this, her brow furrowed. “It must be something. He is a Malfoy after all.”

…

The pair found out exactly what Draco Malfoy was intending to gain from the ordeal the next day when Ron threw down a pre-release copy of Witch Weekly that he had gotten from Lavender.

“Page 3.” He grunted, throwing himself down into the chair.

Hermione picked up the copy in confusion and turned to the page indicated. Ginny read over her shoulder.

The article contained a gossip filled tirade about Hermione and Draco’s lunch meeting. Or rather, as Hermione read on in increasing anger, their supposed date.

“ _Does Ms. Granger’s change of heart indicate a turning for the young Malfoy heir? Sources suggest that one of the most eligible Batchelors could be renouncing his family’s history and leading the Malfoy empire down a new track. Time will only tell, but Witch Weekly will be keeping their eye on this burgeoning couple.”_ Ginny read out loud the final paragraph of the article with a note of disgust in her voice.

Hermione’s face was sour as she re-read the gossip article. She was only glad that the intern hadn’t been carrying his camera so there were no photos to accompany the story.

“See, Hermione, he can’t be trusted.” Ron said grimly, with a note of finality as though he was closing a long argument with a final blow.

“Trusted?” Hermione said, angrily. “If there’s anyone that can’t be trusted it’s your girlfriend.” Hermione stabbed her finger on the magazine a look of thunder on her face. “She’s the one writing slanderous nonsense in a national publication.”

“G-girlfriend?” Ron spluttered, unprepared for Hermione’s anger to be directed at him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron and Lavender were an on-and-off couple and regularly jumped into bed together in their off months.

“Whatever, Ronald.” Hermione snapped. She couldn’t stand gossip columnists and found it difficult to relax in Lavender’s company, much preferring Lavender and Ron’s off months when she wouldn’t be subjected to group dinners with the couple.

“My point remains.” Ron muttered.

Hermione scowled deeper and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t do much about Lavender for now, but she would deal with Malfoy when she saw him next Saturday, once she worked out how successful his advice was.


	4. The First Test

Chapter 4: The First Test

Monday felt like the dawn of a whole new age and Hermione was feeling more nervous than she could ever remember being. Refusing to let it get the better of her, she pulled on every reserve of her courage as she got ready for work. Actively not going to the office early was proving more unnerving than she realised.

Hermione spent the early morning, when she would normally be at work, sitting at the breakfast bar in her flat, drinking coffee with the Daily Prophet laid out in front of her, and with Ginny rushing around trying to get dressed in time for a press meeting.

At ten to nine, Hermione stood up, yelled a goodbye to Ginny and apparated to the ministry. In a relaxed fashion she headed to her office and, with a great effort to project an aura of calm, sat down at her desk. Much to her surprise, no-one commented on her appearing at a different time in the morning, and after a few minutes of feeling uncomfortable, Hermione had the realisation that nobody had noticed anything different because they didn’t know that she routinely turned up at least an hour early. Feeling slightly more relaxed in her decision, Hermione pulled the case file on the top of the pile towards her and settled in to do her day of work.

At half eleven, Hermione was jolted out of her focus as a file got dropped in front of her.

“You need to finish up this case work before the end of the day.” A snotty, slightly adolescent voice floated down.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m busy at the moment.” Hermione looked up to the skinny boy, blinked carefully, and handed him back the file. “You’ll need to fit this into your own time.”

The kid took the file dumbly and, slowly, turned and walked back to his desk. Hermione grinned to herself, and quickly turned back to her work so that no one else would see. Maybe she could do this after all.

The rest of her work day went just as smoothly. Hermione took an extra long lunch and fielded one more unwanted case. Come 5:30, she put her work to one side, picked up her handbag and made her way out of her office, throwing a smug smile to the boy who had dropped the file on her desk that morning, who was still sat hunched over his desk.

The rest of her week went in much the same way. Hermione found she had time to do all of her work without turning up early and working late, and as the week wore on less and less cases landed on her desk for her to refuse.

Hermione had to admit that there seemed to be some merit to the career advice that Malfoy had offered her, even if she did shudder a bit whenever she thought that. It was a thought that would take some getting used to. And now that she was leaving work on time, Hermione found that she had far more spare time than she was used to – enough time to really consider why Draco Malfoy had opted to help her.

She could see that Draco was angling for some better press, using her own standing in the public eye to get a foothold in. Hermione knew she would have to make sure that she didn’t get dragged to far down in the process. She certainly didn’t trust journalists and she was going to have to tread carefully to make sure she didn’t put too much trust in Malfoy either.

…

Friday evening found the group in the local pub again. There was still a little tension between Ron and Hermione, neither willing to back down from their opposing stances. Ron had made his opinion on the matter quite clear, using Ginny as a go between to pass this on to Hermione at least three times over the course of the week.

Harry sat down next to Hermione, two beers in his hands. He passed one to Hermione, and they clinked them together in a wordless ‘cheers’.

“I’m glad to see you’re still talking to me.” Commented Hermione dryly, shooting a glance in Ron’s direction.

Harry rolled his eyes in response. “I hear you took a few swings at _LavLav_ while you were at it.”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have.” Hermione grinned, but then sighed. “It was a bit low brow of me, but she did write that horrific column.”

“I’m not judging.” Harry replied. “You just can’t blame the guy for having his back up. You’ve picked Draco Malfoy over his girlfriend. Or at least, over the girl he’s seeing.” Harry shrugged. “He’ll get over it, it was only one lunch.”

Hemione pursed her lips and avoided Harry’s eyes.

Harry blinked. “You’re seeing him again, aren’t you?”

Hermione glanced guiltily at Harry. “It’s not like it’s a social occasion, it’s entirely work related.” Hermione reasoned.

“Ron won’t be able to see that.” Harry ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t say I’m a huge fan myself, Hermione. It feels a lot like walking straight into the fire.”

“I know.” Hermione breathed out slowly. She was just pleased that Harry didn’t seem to be taking the same extreme view as Ron

“Well, I think the sooner this nonsense is all over, the better.” Harry advised. “For everyone.”

Hermione didn’t reply, choosing instead to sip her beer slowly. She had also noticed that George had categorically avoided her eye contact all evening. She didn’t feel like she was ready for that conversation either. She couldn’t tell whether the gossip column was widely believed, or if it was just the Malfoy element that was putting everyone’s guard up.

Hermione did her best to side step the topic for the rest of the evening. She joined in hearty conversations about Quidditch, and stayed silent when dangerous topics came up. She had even managed to avoid being directly in a conversation with Ron, for fear that he would say something about the whole affair.

It wasn’t until they were walking back to their flats that Hermione’s careful evasion lost it’s focus. Hermione found herself at the back of the group, walking next to George. He silently put a hand on her shoulder and slowed her pace until they were far enough away from the others to speak unheard.

“So, Malfoy.” George said.

“Is that a question?” Hermione replied with a small smile.

George chuckled. “I suppose not. You’ve certainly got Ron in a huff, it’s all I’ve heard about for the last week.”

“Well if that isn’t Ronald in a nut shell.”

“What’s this whole thing about then? I can’t believe anything Ron’s been ranting about.”

Hermione sighed, and glanced quickly at George. “I guess you could call it career advice?”

“From a Malfoy?” George grinned widely, and although the street was dark, Hermione didn’t think it quite reached his eyes. “You’re a brave woman, Hermione.”

Hermione laughed quietly and didn’t reply. They walked on in silence, shoulder to shoulder. The others had all disappeared around the corner.

George once again put a gentle hand on Hermione’s shoulder and pulled her to a stop facing him.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what he was doing when he took a step forward.

“Oh.” Hermione breathed out. She looked up at the man in front of her, her brain scrambling to put thoughts in order.

George placed a hand on Hermione’s face, gently tilted her chin up, and lent down to place a kiss on her lips. The kiss was fleeting, and as soon as their lips had met, Hermione was blinking as George stepped back again, and dropped his hands.

“I like you, Hermione.” George said, quietly. “A lot.” He gave a wry smile, stepped away, and headed back home.

Hermione stood stunned in the street. She could taste the sweet whisky that George had been drinking through the evening and couldn’t quite work out how to process his declaration. She couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t suspected about the way George had felt towards her, but she also couldn’t deny she wasn’t ready for him to tell her.

“Bloody Gryffindors.” Hermione muttered. She took a deep breath and walked the final few minutes back to her flat.

…

Back in her flat, Hermione sat at the table in front of a blank piece of parchment. She had given herself until now to decide whether or not she would see Draco again tomorrow.

Hermione had to admit that she’d taken a risk in taking Draco’s advice. After everything that had happened, it could have been complete career suicide. Although she still wasn’t sure that the gossip column that would now be following their every move wouldn’t have its own ramifications in the future. Hermione had done her best to avoid the press and the columnists since she left school, trying to forge her path ahead without the constant scrutinising of the wider wizarding population. Continuing to meet Malfoy would only send her back down that path.

However, she also couldn’t deny that she was a little curious to find out what Draco would say, and to see quite how far this experiment would take her.

Hermione sighed heavily, picked up a quill and held it over her inkpot. She needed to decide whether she would meet Draco again tomorrow. Should she risk moving back into the gossip limelight in the hope that it could advance her career? Or steer clear of the dangers that Draco Malfoy could bring to her career and find her own path?

She set quill to parchment and began to write.


End file.
